Gavin was a friendly kid and he meant well...usually, so Varric tried not to groan too loudly as the elf pulled him into a filthy, bog-laden embrace. He was clearly happy to see him again (and, even in spite of the circumstances, Varric was glad to see him as well), so Varric just clapped him on the back and rode it out. When Gavin pulled away, he was caked in Bianca's weight in mud.

The elf tried to brush some of the worst of it off of him, but since his hands were filthy, all he really just managed to spread it around until Varric had a nice, even coating of muck.

Definitely going to burn these clothes.

"You think it scares you?" Varric asked, incredulously. "I just found out that there's a whole audience I never knew I had. A nomadic audience who are well known for being silent hunters and emphatic in their opinions. Shit, I even hired one of them as my new reader."

But Gavin had offered up food and, despite the dwarf's sudden desire to hike until he found an inn with a heated bath, the idea of sitting down for a few and chatting was pretty appealing. Of course, the food he had was probably the same schlock they all had: bread and hardtack that tasted like damp and algae, and whatever bizarre assortment of cured meats the quartermaster had managed to allot them. Not appealing, but it was still slightly better than eating his shoe. He could deal with it.

"Come on, let's delay your death for a while and sit down for a quick supper. Call it your lunch break."